Wings Of Splendor

I wanna capture this moment:
the rain beginning to pitter patter
on the roof while you lay sleeping
in the bedroom in the calm darkness.
I sit here with high hopes,
wanting to write you a beautiful poem
but my thoughts run from me
before I can press them to the page.

But then, maybe that's okay.
Maybe, for the first time,
I don't need to conjure up words
to form sentences and lines of flattery.
Maybe the simplicity of your graceful beauty
speaks for itself and this time I can
rest and marval at it, not needing
to chase it or capture it or pretend
it to be more than it really is.

For the first time, I have rest.
I can lay in your arms without need
to turn them into wings of splendor,
for arms they are but still we fly.